


Better Than Nothing At All

by The_Grace_of_Cas (Space413)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abaddon - Freeform, Angst, Castiel Whump, Dark, Dark Dean Winchester, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Fallen Castiel, Human Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Naked Castiel, Non-Consensual, Possession, Season/Series 09, Sexual Tension, Spoilers, Supernatural - Freeform, Torture, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:50:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space413/pseuds/The_Grace_of_Cas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After human Castiel is kicked out of the bunker and eventually captured by demons, he finds himself only alive because Dean comes to rescue him. But is Dean there to help Cas, or make things worse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescue Me?

**Author's Note:**

> NOT HAPPY  
> Angsty and a tiny bit racy,  
> Hope you enjoy!

Castiel made a very bad human. He was weak, useless, and even his friends didn’t want anything to do with him. In fact, he would be already dead now if it wasn’t for a girl who left him alone again when she figured out he wouldn’t give her what he wanted. He was supposed to be a warrior of God, an angel of the Lord, not some human dying in the streets. In fact, he respected a lot of these people more than himself. Eventually it wasn’t his lack of being a good human that got him though, it was his history.

April (the girl who once helped him)’s friend said she would get him to a kinder city (he’d stayed with April, but there wasn’t much opportunity where he was). But, because he has to forget everything the Winchesters taught him, he forgot to check if she was possessed. Of course Castiel had to be captured by demons.

He had no idea what they wanted with him, but he guessed he was a bargaining chip. Crowley hardly wanted him now. For what? Revenge? No, the demons wanted to trade him to his brethren. His family were the ones who  _really_ wanted him dead.      

He expected torture and pain, but the first thing they did was clamp his feet down so he was trapped and still standing. A tall black eyed man he’d never seen before removed his clothing.        

Nudity never would’ve bothered Castiel as an angel, and he never got quite why people were offended by it, but standing there naked he understood. It was a sense of vulnerability and humiliation that made him want to smite every last demon in the abandoned wherever the heck they were.   

Smiting was out of the option, though.         

Then a gun went off and shot the demon in the head. The demon seemed to die, but mostly became immobile. Was that the colt? Did someone find the colt again? A one of a kind knife finished the demon off. Lights flickered on in the dark room, and Castiel’s immediate reaction was to cover his crouch. Despite the lighting beginning to work in cold, damp room his feet remained locked to the platform they were on.

“Cas?” said a shocked, always recognizable voice.

 

Human emotions riveted through Cas’s body. He felt more anxious than the time he’d kissed April and oh was he anxious then. Even more than when she tried to take it further than mere kissing and, well, the rest of that story is a travesty.         

Dean. Cas pursed his lips. Cas could remember the even and calm yet cruel words he’d said to Cas. Cas could also hear the sound of Dean calling Ezekiel "Zeke" and kicking him out because “it wasn’t safe”. Kicking out because now he really was just a useless human.    

Ha, well now Dean got to see him humiliated and on the verge of being traded to the angels. That bull’s eye was forever stuck on his head, but with good meaning. He was beginning to understand the millennium of believing dead was better than losing your grace.          

“Hello Dean,” Cas said, trying to remain collected despite his embarrassment. “Why are you here?” he asked. He couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Saving your ass. You’re obviously in over your head,” Dean replied.        

“What about Sam? And… Ezekiel,” Cas asked. He more wished to ask if Dean could give him something to wear and get his feet free.  

“What no thanks?” Dean said. His next laugh seemed slightly high pitched for him. Cas glanced desperately around the room. The demon Dean had killed laid in the corner with some clothes on him. He couldn’t see the ones he stole.           

“Thank you. Could you get me out of this trap?” Castiel asked. He let his eyes meet Dean’s but just barely. Tears were one thing he hated the most about being human. They threatened the corners of his eyes more so than ever now. He really didn’t want Dean seeing him like this, especially not after Dean already thought he was so pathetic. Dean's eyes were so cold they were like frozen solid moss. Cas felt a shiver run across his bare body.

“I found the lever, it’s around the corner of the door out there,” Dean said. “Interesting outfit, by the way.”       

“Dean, the lever?” Cas asked. Cas saw a wide grin sneak out on Dean’s face. It was unlike any smile Cas had seen on Dean. He didn’t walk to let Cas out, no; he walked away from the door.   

He walked towards Cas.        

“Dean?” Cas asked again.      

“What?” Dean asked. He rolled his eyes. “You don’t trust me?” Apprehension snuck into all four corners of Cas’s mind.              

“Dean…” Cas replied. He felt like this wasn’t the time for this conversation. Surely Dean had some idea of how vulnerable Cas felt right now? How embarrassed. A hint of anger flared up in Cas. Maybe that was Dean’s point.           

“You never do. You didn’t trust me with the angel tablet, or that I wanted you to stay. That is was purely for Sam,” Dean said.

“That’s not true, Dean,” Cas said, a lump forming in his throat. “Can we please talk about this after I’m clothed?”

“What’s the difference?” Dean stepped on the appearingly four foot wide platform Cas was stepping on. Cas had nowhere to hide. Dean ran his finger down Cas’s arm; Cas visibly flinching away from Dean’s touch. “You don’t even trust me to touch you…” Dean said. Cas’s skin was crawling. He wished Dean would just go away, free him, let him collect his pride then leave him like he had previously left the hunter. Dean tried touching Cas's bare side, but Cas flinched away on reflex.

"Dean, please can let me out now?" Cas asked. Dean's hesitation was worrying Cas. Cas begun to wonder if something  _was_  wrong with Dean.

"Trust me. This once, trust me," Dean said. Cas's breathing was becoming more erratic, but he swallowed and nodded for Dean. Dean traced a finger down Cas's back. What good what that do anything? What was Dean doing? Was this some human thing Cas hadn't learnt about in his years of watching over humanity?

"You keep flinching away," Dean commented. His voice sounded bored. 

"I'm new to human touch. I'd also very much appreciate if you'd stop," Cas said, his raising in desperation towards the end.

"You can stop trying to cover yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of," Dean said. Cas squirmed. The lighting seemed so harsh on him and Dean continued around him but Cas couldn't even move his feet. He wished Dean would just stop. Dean was circling around him now, doing nothing more than prodding him (in fairness, innocent places) and just watching Castiel flinch away. 

"Dean, is this how you tell me you're angry at me? Can you stop? Dean?" Cas asked, hoping saying his name was reminding him of something, of anything... Cas was at a loss. He was to the point where if Dean even came near him he'd flinch away, even though Dean hadn't hurt him once.

Dean's touch felt like poison when usually Cas felt like he craved it. That is what happens when you mix fear, vulnerability, and the fact Cas asked Dean to stop. His body physically reacted with flinching away.

"Before I leave I just want to talk to you," Dean said. "We haven't had a chance to talk in... forever," Dean said. Cas gulped. 

"Could you let me get some clothes?" Cas asked, hoping this time Dean would listen. In what seemed to be a burst of fury, Dean snapped:

"No! You're a powerless human now and as I said before, you're nothing but a baby in a trench coat. I don't see any trench coat so here you are." He motioned to Cas's naked body. There was something beyond simple cruelty in Dean's eyes. It wasn't meant to affect Cas or make him feel anything, it was meant to cut him completely down.

Cas remembered what Dean said before though. It was true. He was useless and what use did Dean even have of him? He was worthless to Dean, and Sam for that matter. He may as well not even exist. He began to accept his humility.

Dean stopped pacing around Cas and looked him straight in the eye. Cas kept his gaze down and tried not to meet Dean's, but Dean had something to say and when Dean Winchester wanted to tell you something, you'd have to listen.

The last time Cas felt quite like this he was in a ring of holy fire. The time before that he decided to fall from Heaven for Dean. Had Dean not at least cared a bit more than just the stake of the world then? Just a bit for actual Castiel, underneath a certain power? Like in Purgatory, those prayers had been more than just him wanting some help... why would Cas've even known the way out?

"Dean.. I..." Cas said.

"You what, Cas?" Dean challenged. Breathing was so much harder to keep in control when you were human. "At least now you can't screw things up as much," Dean added under his breath.

"Are you mad at me for falling, or something else?" Cas asked, hoping, so desperately, for the latter. Hoping this was something he could fix. Something that meant Dean cared, just somewhat, for Cas.

Who was he kidding? Dean didn't  _love_ people. Not like Cas loved Dean. Not even like Cas loved Sam, which was in a different yet in an incredibly strong, way. Dean  _needed_  people. He needed their help for different various reasons, and he couldn't live without them, then. He needed Cas for a period of time, but now Cas wasn't what he needed. All he was was human now, and not a very good one at that.

Though the thought fractured his fragile mind like a shard of sharp glass, the idea that maybe Dean needed  _Zeke_  the way he once needed Cas seemed extremely likely. All Castiel wanted to do right then was hide away in the darkest corner of this dank world and never see the light of day again, but no. He couldn't even move to a corner of the room. He couldn't even hide under clothes or the shield of darkness. And there Dean was, looking at him like he was completely worthless.

And that was right when he punched Cas in the stomach. Cas was gasping for air now, and he pressed his arms desperately into his sore exposed stomach, wishing the pain would stop. Wishing it hadn't been Dean who'd inflicted it upon him. Wishing he was back to trying to fight the devil with Dean, where the only conflict they could have would be about him saying yes.

A sly grin crept up on Dean's face. After thinking he memorised all of the hunter's facial expressions, he was surprised by how many he didn't know. Maybe these were the ones he never used in front of Cas when Cas was something Dean wanted to protect.

"What now?" Cas yelled at Dean, a new sort of fresh fury blooming and making him feel less cornered. "Are you going to hurt me again, Dean? Are you going to torture me like you..."

Cas stopped dead cold. Panic filled him at his words, how could they betray him so? He wasn't used to these emotions controlling him and taking control. This had always been his biggest problem as an angel, but usually they just affected his direct, thought through decisions, not his every movement of every day.

Dean must actually hate him now. Why would've he even brought that up? It'd seemed like Dean had buried all those memories and here Cas was, bring it up.

Dean punched him hard in the stomach again, and Cas tried hard to keep standing, but it was hard steadying himself with his feet so in place.

"You know what? I don't even care. There's nothing to care about. You and me? We're done. I'm out. Deal with the rest yourself," Dean said after Cas found a way to stand up straight again and meet his gaze. His words hit harder than the physical blow. Dean didn't mean it... did he? He didn't really...

Cas wished Dean would hurt him now, anything but the solemn look he gave him before he went to walk out, leaving Cas naked and trapped.

"You have to care somewhat!" Cas exclaimed, hoping to halter Dean, hoping to see if there was _something_. Of all those years... Dean had to have cared? Beyond needing him?

Cas was beginning to fool himself silly.

"Why the Hell would you say that? Because you raised me from Hell? You can't save me now, Cas. You're worthless," Dean said. Cas needed to breathe evenly. This wasn't real, was it? This had to be a nightmare. Dean wouldn't actually say that to his face, would he? Cas thought he knew Dean better than that.

"You cared enough to be angry enough to hit me," Cas said, just as Dean began to leave again, after giving Cas a look that would have him on his knees if that was an option. "Dean, if you're mad, okay. Hurt me. Torture me. Do whatever you need to. But... don't say I'm worth nothing. You told me I was family. You wouldn't turn Sam away if he was weak," Cas said. He was running out on a limb here, and he knew Dean wouldn't be responsive. Maybe he was just hoping, on some off chance, that something in Dean actually did  _care_ for him. Actually for him, not his powers, not what he could do for Dean, just him.

Dean hating his guts would be a lot better than the look of uselessness he was giving him right now. At least hatred meant he cared; at least hatred meant he felt  _something_. Or that he once had.

Dean pulled a knife out of his green jacket pocket and came towards Cas. Cas felt his heart rate speeding. The proximity plus the knife made him dizzy.

Dean was going to hurt him. With a knife. Physically. That hadn't ever happened before. Nothing even remotely like that happened in the history of forever when it came to Dean and Cas. Cas felt more goose bumps make an appearance on his skin and he saw Dean smile.

Better than not caring at all.

Better than not caring at all.


	2. Take a Break and Whisper My Name (Like You Still Care)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel learns about human pain in a way he never thought he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, it is depressing and torture could be involved.

Castiel’s body tensed. The knife Dean held was an angel blade, and while it would be just as effective as any old sharp hunk medal, it made it worse for Cas. His body reacted with more fear. Of course, Dean must’ve already sensed that.

Dean walked towards him till he was all too close. Cas wished he was farther away, another galaxy, anywhere but nearing towards him with the intention of hurting him.

“You want us to work through this? You want to come back to the bunker and we’ll be all buddy-buddy again?” Dean asked mockingly. He began twirling the blade; his glare still malicious. Despite the circumstances, despite the fact Dean kept cutting him down and all he wanted to do was fly away to a place not in this dimension, despite the vulnerability and the pain, Cas fervently wished to tell Dean yes.

“No, Dean; I understand. I have a bull’s eye on my back, and Sam is healing. I trust you in that that’s where your intentions lie,” Cas lied. He couldn’t find any trust for Dean anymore. It was hard to trust somebody when you were in fear that they’d end your life.

“Dammit Cas! If you were strong, that wouldn’t matter. I don’t care what you fucking think about us, but humans aren’t  _that_ weak,” Dean snapped. In all of this, it seemed like something Dean would say the most. Or was that just some more mindless dreaming on Cas’s part?

“Then why did you ask me to leave?” Cas asked. Why he really probed the thought any more, he had no idea. All that would end up happening would be his worst fears becoming confirmed.

Dean stepped closer to him now, so close Cas wished more than ever he could take a step back. Despite the deep darkness that he could sense behind those green eyes, the darkness he’d once always seen so bright when he was an angel and could see Dean’s soul, the brightness that now seemed like a pit, and the stone-cold gaze he was giving him, Cas couldn’t notice how tragically beautiful Dean was. He cursed himself for such thoughts.

He raised the blade to Cas’s face and cut him slightly along his jawline. It drew a small flow of blood and made Cas gasp in pain. It was silly, he was barely hurt, and yet it hurt so much. All these new human emotions kept racing through his body and wouldn’t stop betraying him.

“Well, you  _aren’t_  strong. You’re a liability at best,” Dean said. Could Dean really be this cold? “You’d break,” he added, as if he hadn’t made his point already. Cas’s knees felt as if they were about to buckle. He breathed.

“I wouldn’t,” Cas said, regaining some of his composure out of adrenaline and fury. Then his bare body reminded him of how pathetic he was all over again. He wished Dean would at least take a step back.

“Do you  _really_  want to find out if you would? Do you really care that much? Wouldn’t everything much be easier if I left you here, if you could find some freaking human life and you wouldn’t have to see my face ever again? That’d sure be a luxury for me. And you’d only have to hear my name if you overheard some demons talking about my death,” Dean asked, his voice envenomed on every word. In that moment Cas wanted to ask if he was serious, if this was Dean. Was he in some trance? Was he in a nightmare? Had he slipped from his fragile human consciousness? But he held his tongue, in fear that asking would prove his weakness.

“I’ve already answered that,” Castiel said. He braced his bracing body all over again, as Dean gave an altogether too snide smile and starting hacking patterns and cuts that would scar Cas’s body forever all over his chest.

Cas choked on the pain. He bit back his cries. It could be worse; Dean obviously wasn’t looking for him to be  _dead_.

The more the blade he once wielded to protect Dean carved into his sides, his upper thighs… the more he wished he were dead.

The grating fact that Dean was smiling while he carved an angel banishing sigil into Castiel’s chest made some part of his mind doubt ever getting stuck in all of this mess with Dean, ever disobeying. Would the pain he was feeling right now compare to the pain he’d feel if he’d chosen differently?

It was only a small part of his mind though; the part that doubt had once resided in. Most of what he felt was rough, human agony running all over his body from the knife’s fun journey. He gritted his teeth and tasted blood.

Cas thanked his words for not turning into a careful beg for Dean to stop. They wanted to; they wanted to plead with the man and hope he’d stop. He couldn’t do that, though. Cas had dealt with pain before, and he could handle this. So what if this was the worst position he’d ever been in? So what if he’d never wanted to die more than in that precise moment?

Despite the fact he knew he loved Dean past all of this, a sick hatred was forming in the pit of Cas’s stomach. He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because he loved Dean so much that him turning on him like this turned that strong emotion to hatred. Maybe it was because he was torturing him and the physical pain twisted these feeble emotions into something else; he didn’t know. All he knew was a sickening feeling was forming, and it was another reason he wanted to throw up.

He wanted to fall into a clump at Dean’s knees, devoid of any will to carry on, and he would be by now if Dean hadn’t had the courtesy to hold his shoulder. That pressure was the only thing he could hold onto and remain standing. He felt like the sheer agony was tearing him apart. It was but a message, right? That’s what he’d known throughout his angelic life. It was impossible to ignore because the human body was meant for survival. But now he had to ignore it, ignore the feelings of breaking because of Dean and the knife and…

And, finally, Dean dropped the blade to the ground. Castiel’s blood covered it, as well as what a bloody mess he was.

“ _That wasn’t too bad,_ ” Cas thought to himself. It was a bitter thought, but Dean could’ve made that worse. Cas had seen him in Hell; consequently, he knew Dean’s imagination could be a lot worse than that. He just prayed- not, he just  _hoped_  that it was over now. He wasn’t even thinking of the situation to come, all he could find at the front of his mind appeared to be the human need for break in torture.

“Angel, Castiel; you held up better than I could’ve imagined. I’ll get some bandages from the Impala,” Dean said, his voice inflection off, but Cas barely noticed difference anymore. He bet his voice didn’t sound normal either. If he had spoken then, it probably would’ve come out ragged and shaky.

He patted Cas on the shoulder, and Cas gave out a broken laugh before Dean turned heel and walked away. Cas couldn’t support himself and fell to the ground, his feet painfully staying in the same position.

He tried to stop his wounds from bleeding with his hands but to no avail. Blood was now the only thing covering his naked body. His wounds still had that sharp pain feel to them, and he was surprised how someone could even go through this. Human pain is so much different than any other pain. It was fresher and somehow more real. Maybe it was to show how trapped you really were to your vessel, or body in most cases.

Dean found Cas still on the floor when he got back, and Cas could hear him sigh. He actually offered Cas his hand, and Cas gratefully took it. He gave Dean a weak smile which Dean in no way returned.

Castiel’s breath was suddenly knocked out of him. He had not been expecting Dean to full on kick him in the stomach. His open cuts screamed as the hard bottom of Dean’s boot hit them with force great enough to make them cry in a bitter symphony. Cas yelped in surprise as he fell to the ground. He managed to catch himself and his hands were sore from getting twisted and now were covered in blood. His ankles felt bruised and sore from being ripped against the metal.

“Clean your wounds with this.” Dean threw him some alcoholic beverage. “And stop the blood with this. I’ll be back in a minute,” Dean ordered. Cas tried to do as Dean said, but there was so much blood and the alcohol made them sting so awfully much more. He managed to make himself less of a bloody mess though. Because he had to stand up, he pulled into his knees, making his stomach and chest cuts bleed profusely. He tried to clean the new mess up.

Finally, he heard the clink of metal from the traps locking his feet opening. He held the towel close to him, partly to cover the bleeding, partly to feel some sort of coverage.

“Here,” Dean said, walking in. He threw some clothes at him and some bandages. “I’ll wait in the Impala,” he said shortly before leaving abruptly.

The amount of bandages he had could not possibly cover up all his wounds, so he just tried to get the blood to stop flowing as much as he could before slipping into some boxers. He didn’t recognize them and assumed they must be Dean’s. Castiel didn’t want to ruin Dean’s clothes. He expected some sort of relief when he put the clothes on, but all it did was salvage the remain of something on the brink of extinction.

He found his walking shaky but knew he had to get out to Dean quickly. Did it make him awful to not want to face Dean right there and then? He also couldn’t help notice that once he was wearing clothes he could barely see any of Dean’s beautiful artistic strokes into his skin.

He slipped into some worn down tennis shoes Dean’d left him and walked as quickly as he could. It was light out and the change from what he’d thought bright florescent to white-gray glare of light through thick clouds hurt Cas’s eyes.

He fumbled through with the door handle because his hands were acting so shaky and slid into the seat. Dean was humming some song Cas had never heard before when he turned to Cas.

“Castiel, if you bleed on anything, I’ll kill you,” Dean threatened.

And after the events of what just happened, Cas believed him.

 


	3. The Aftermath of Torture

If Castiel tried hard enough, he could ignore the physical pain inflicted upon him by Dean Winchester.

Dean didn’t say a word to him while he drove. He drove down the interstate for several hours before turning off it, presumably to get to the bunker. Once they were off the highway, Dean was very careful to speed up before any bumps in the road, jerking Cas painfully around. Cas tried to turn any gasps of pain into a meager burst of laughter, and tried to make sure he didn’t bleed, which was pretty hard.

Cas started to recognize the landscape around from the time he’d first travelled and when he’d first travelled away, both on Dean’s requests. A wash of hatred hit him all over again. It wasn’t voluntary, he voluntarily loved Dean with everything he had, but he couldn’t help this feeling growing over him.

They pulled into the little corner off the road and got out of the Impala. The movements made it harder for Cas to ignore the pain all over his body, and he hoped Dean wouldn’t notice how much weaker he had successfully made him. Dean really had broken him. But they could ignore that fact, right?

They walked to the door before Dean cursed.

“Forgot my gun in the car, care to open up? I taught you how and all. Be there in a minute,” he said. Cas nodded. That wouldn’t be that hard. Dean tossed him the key.

The sight of that thick door that barely looked like a door with brick patterned around it nearly stopped him cold. He’d stared this door down for a good half hour before knocking on it before. In the growing dusk the patterns on the iron door looked so much more medieval. He knocked out a pattern Dean had taught him to warn them it was him then unlocked the door.

He was met with a face full of holy water. There were no figures, though; it seemed like someone (Kevin the prophet?) set up some traps for more protection. Or maybe the Men of Letters had done it, Cas didn’t know.

Someone came out, holding a gun. It was dark, but by the height Cas guessed it to be Sam. Or… Ezekiel…

“Cas?” Sam’s voice asked, walking closer. Cas gave him a weak smile.

“Sam?” Cas asked in return.

“Um… yeah, are you alright?” Sam asked. Cas breathed in relief. He really didn’t have the strength to talk to Ezekiel right now.

“Yeah. Dean’s here,” Cas said. The first part was a lie, he was falling apart, and even the pain refused to fade.

Cas retreated farther into the bunker, avoiding any greetings Sam was giving him. Maybe Sam was polite enough not to say it to his face, but Cas couldn’t forget all the things Dean said to him. He quickly went to the bed he’d slept in when he’d been there previously. He could a faint “Well, okay then,” from Sam.

From inside his room he heard Dean enter a minute or two after. He hoped that Dean wouldn’t come into see him. He found himself with his head at his knees, shivering at the thought of another day, another day facing Dean and Sam and all the people he failed. The guilt he’d wrecked Heaven, then made every angel in his family fall. He couldn’t stand the thought of any of that.

Memories of all the things Dean’d said to him flashed in front of his mind. Every part of Cas was exhausted, but he didn’t want to see all the nightmares waiting for him if he tried to sleep.

He remembered Dean making him flinch, telling him he was useless and worthless and how embarrassed he’d felt. It crushed him neatly in two. That was _Dean_ who’d done that to him. It was _Dean_ who’d left these scars all over his body, who’d treated him as if he was less than nothing. It was _Dean._

Cas vaguely wondered if this was what Hell was like. No, the Hell he’d seen in his various trips couldn’t’ve been this bad.

Only pure exhaustion let Cas fall into sleep. It was the biggest relief he’d had in quite a long time.

He woke to a bright filtering in through the window. Sleeping wasn’t something that came as naturally to Castiel as he wished it would. He woke up to blood soaking nearly through all of his clothes and bandages, probably because he hadn’t even looked at the night prior.

He’d been at the bunker a couple of days before so he had some clothes they’d gotten for him still there. He changed quickly but was terrified to outside his room and face the people out there. The people who hated him and he loved. The people who now found him worthless.

How is it that he had so little when he cared so much and loved so much? Oh, right. It was _because_ he cared so much. That was what always messed him up.

But he couldn’t sulk in his bedroom forever. He took the bloodstained clothes to put in the trash bin before he could be seen then went out to the kitchen. Luckily no one was there.

After 30 minutes of milling around with his stomach growling but refusing to eat anything, Kevin came in.

“Hey, Cas,” Kevin greeted. He didn’t really say anything else. What else did he have to say to Castiel? Honestly, the confrontation was better than it could’ve been. The last time Kevin and Cas had met Cas had threatened him.

Cas vaguely walked out into what appeared to be a library. To his immediate horror, both Sam and Dean were there. Dean sensed his presence, looking up from a newspaper he rolled his eyes. Cas wished he could retreat inside himself. He couldn’t find a way disappear, now though. He’d lost that ability when he gained his humanity.

Sam was immersed in a book. He didn’t look up until Cas went to leave.

“Good morning, Cas. Heard you and Dean had some demon problems. Dean was pretty frantic when he heard you were in danger, he ran off without me, sorry,” Sam said. Cas furrowed his eye brows. Had Dean been _frantic_ to torture him?

Maybe Dean had just assumed that he’d give away their coordinates and secrets. Maybe he’d been afraid Cas’d betray him for a demon. As fervently as Cas wanted to deny the possibility of anything like that ever happening, he could think of an instance.

“You seem well, Sam,” Cas commented, keeping his voice even. He didn’t want to see Sam’s gaze right now. Sam, who’d once looked up to him. Sam, who’d believed in him when even Dean thought he was far from gone… but that was when he could help them. He couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t do anything.  Cas turned to leave, but his legs were weak from exhaustion and what Dean’d done them. His walking was shaky.

“Cas?” Sam asked when Cas’s footsteps fumbled around each other. There sounded to be genuine concern in Sam’s voice. Did Sam still care about him? Cas didn’t know.

“Yes?” Cas asked turning back to face Sam. Dean appeared to be paying full attention to him now. Despite the clothes he was now wearing, Cas still felt naked.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Cas fought back tears. He was so confused on why Sam even cared. He was worthless, wasn’t he? Useless… no help to anyone…

“I’m fine,” Cas said. He retreated away then. Dean didn’t even say a word to him, and, honestly, he was very thankful for that.

Staying in his room seemed like a much better alternative to this. He sat upon the bed he slept in and found his eyes leaking. He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now, and hoped he was silent enough for Dean not to hear. He hoped Dean would never see how weak he really was. Dean’d been one hundred percent correct when he’d said he wasn’t strong.

So when someone came into his room panic lined up through his veins. He wiped away tears on his face, but the fact he’d been crying was probably very obvious. What would Dean do if he saw Cas like this? What would he say?

Cas may as well take his own life now. Metatron had said his soul would go to Heaven when he died, but somehow Cas doubted that. Castiel had no soul. He hoped it would just be the ending for him because he had no idea how he’d deal with being resurrected again.

“Cas?” Sam, not Dean, asked. Cas tried to even out his breathing.

“Sam, please go away. And… don’t say anything to Dean… please?” Cas asked. Sam didn’t leave, though; he shut the door and sat beside Cas.

“Someone cut your face,” Sam pointed out. He seemed very awkward talking to Cas. Maybe he assumed this was his job since Dean obviously wanted nothing to do with Cas. Cas smiled bitterly.

“A demon,” Cas lied. He respected Dean not to say what really happened. “I’m fine.”

“It will heal. But how are you? I mean, you’re human now. Must be pretty disorienting,” Sam said. Sam’s concern shined like a beacon and Cas couldn’t feel anything besides immediate gratitude. Maybe Sam cared.

“I’m sorry,” was all Castiel could manage to choke out.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “We’ve dealt with worse than a bunch of fallen angels. Dean’ll come around, he will,” Sam reassured Cas. More tears slipped from Cas’s eyes.

“Not this time,” Cas replied. This time was different. This time Cas wouldn’t ever be able to help him again. And, more than that, Cas knew Dean never really cared. He should’ve picked up on it before. Oh, how he should’ve.

“Of course he will; Cas, you’re family,” Sam said. Cas shook his head grimly, self-hatred making it hard to breathe.

“Not to Dean.” Cas didn't look up to see Sam's expression.

“Well, you’re probably hungry. We actually have some food now, I’ll get you something,” Sam said, changing the subject. Even more shining gratitude filled Cas towards Sam. It was the only thing he held onto as the memories of the things Dean said to him came to life in his minds. It was confusing why Sam would even care about him, but he held onto it.

He just wished that Sam was right about Dean. Cas wasn’t that foolish though.

He knew exactly what Dean thought about him now.

 

 

 


	4. Definition of Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam helps Cas's first day at the bunker go well.

If Castiel hadn’t been close to starving, he never would’ve gone out with Sam to the kitchen and risk having to see Dean. But, as it was, his hunger was engulfing him like it had on previous occasions of this new humanity, and he couldn’t just not eat.

He ate a simple breakfast, though it was past four in the afternoon, of eggs and bread at the table. It was in the room Sam spent most of his time at, and he continued to read a book. Halfway through Cas’s meal, Dean came into the room. Cas shied away.

“Sammy, where’s Crowley? I need to have a talk with him?” Dean asked Sam. He completely ignored Cas; his eyes sliding over the place where the former angel was sitting.

Sam looked up from his book with some confusion.

“Where… he always is…” Sam replied. “Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, just tired from yesterday, that’s all,” Dean replied. He left without looking at Cas whatsoever. Sam continued to read his book with fresh lines of concern on his face.

Once Cas was finished eating, he wasn’t sure what to do. Did Sam want him to leave? Was he supposed to put the dish in the sink? He’d seen humans doing that before.

“Does Dean seem… off to you?” Sam asked in the middle of Cas’s confusion.

“He very well may be tired from yesterday,” Cas replied bitterly. Cas hoped Dean’s actions towards him hadn’t led him to any flashbacks of Hell.

“Hmm… okay. Cas what happened?” Sam asked. Sam seemed to be picking up on all of Cas’s wincing.

“I… got captured by some demons. I think they probably wanted to use to bargain with the other fallen angels, and, well, Dean got to me in time,” Cas lied. Sam’s face didn’t look show complete belief in the story, but he didn’t say anything.

“Okay, well if you’re bored you can help me figure out how to kill a Knight of Hell, from what I’ve seen the Men of Letters have barely any more info on the killing them than we do, but I’ve found a couple tricks,” Sam said.

“Okay,” Cas replied, happy to be of any use. Reading, he could do. Sam passed him a book, and he skimmed towards anything that could relate to killing them. Reading was different as a human, with his perception being so much smaller, but it had the same idea. Most of the info was just lore on them, which Cas already knew from being an angel.

Researching Abaddon was comforting, relaxing, and somehow the time flew. Come dinner Cas left the library for his room, now scared of not only Dean talking to him, but Dean not talking to him. He was used to doing nothing though, and boredom wasn’t a problem, human or not.

Once night fell Cas fell asleep with surprising ease. In his opinion, the day had gone well. Bless Sam for not giving up on him.

***

_Cas found himself entering a new room. It was a place he’d spent a lot time, a lot of painful memories and beautiful ones resided here._

_Bobby’s_ house.

But he wasn’t focusing on the wallpaper or reminiscing about the flooring, he was looking for someone. Dean.

He wanted to rip the hunter’s heart out.

His footsteps made no sound, and there were things he couldn’t quite place around the house, but the anger consuming him towards Dean was too unbearable to notice stuff like that.

So this anger, this rage, this is what Sam had been trying to fight with Lucifer used it against him? How could Sam possibly fight of angelic possession of a former archangel with this incontrollable rage consuming him? With _Lucifer_ using it against him? Cas couldn’t control it now, as he searched through the house, knowing that Dean would be there.

Something was off; something wasn’t right with this picture, but Cas wasn’t paying attention to that. He entered the room that Dean was in, cleaning out a gun.

Lightning quick, quicker than any _human_ could move, Cas snatched the gun away from Dean and threw it under a dresser, out of reach.

“Cas?” Dean asked confused. Though there was no venom in the way Dean had simply said his name, it somehow grated at Cas in a way he couldn’t describe.

He began punching the hunter, and while the action made no sound or left no marks on the hunter, it seemed to cause Dean’s face to warp with the action. Dean was so confused, trying to get Cas off him, away from him, to stop Cas from hurting him, but he wasn’t strong enough.

Cas was an angel, after all.

“Weak, Dean?” Cas bellowed at him, his voice full of fury. “How’s this weak?” Cas twisted his arm. It didn’t make any cracking noise, but it stay contorted and out of shape in such an unnatural way. Cas couldn’t stop hurting Dean; he couldn’t stop this rage. He couldn’t stop feeling as if Dean _deserved_ this. That he deserved much worse, and this was his price.

Dean would die if Cas hurt him any longer. Cas knew this; he didn’t know how he knew this; he just did.

“Oh, Cas? You think you have power here?” Dean suddenly asked, before Cas could strike again. Dean’s smile turned into the unreal, snide version Cas knew he’d seen before on the hunter’s face, but couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly the room changed. Cas was surrounded by flames. Outside the holy fire stood Dean. He called the fire to rest, and Cas tried to move away, but noticed he couldn’t. Though he couldn’t feel the metal against his skin, he found his feet were trapped to the ground. Also, it seemed he wasn’t wearing any clothing.

“Right,” Dean said standing a few feet away from Cas, holding the knife. “I don’t need _holy fire_ to trap you anymore. You’re far weaker than that,” Dean continued. Cas tried to fly away, but Dean was right. He couldn’t even feel the weight of his wings. It wasn’t quite a physical weight that their disappearance lost, it was quite different. It was… indescribable to someone who hadn’t ever lost their wings.

“Dean, let me out!” Cas screamed at Dean. For some reason it didn’t bother him quite so much he was unclothed. He’d never really felt the weight of clothes on him before anyways.

“Why would I do that?” Dean asked. “Why would I want to do that when what I want to really do is slash your skin?”

“Then this isn’t real,” Cas suddenly said, sure of it. Something was off. Besides all the little things that were beginning to give him a headache, something was off. _Dean_ would never try to harm Castiel. Cas was sure of it.

“Why would this not be real?” Dean asked menacingly. Then he let out a laugh. It was a sharp bitter sound that mocked everything about Castiel. “Did you really think I _cared_ about you Cas? Did you really think that once you were powerless somehow I would continue needing you? Continue needing you when you can’t do a thing to help me?” Dean asked, watching Cas try not to flinch at every word said. But as true as the cold point he was trying to draw was, Dean wouldn’t say that. Cas knew Dean. Dean wouldn’t hurt him, either, would he?

Cas had to fix this. Something was wrong, he needed to escape somehow.

“So I’m going to slice into you. I’m going to cut your new skin and scar you for life. Not because I care, but because I like the look of torture on a person’s face,” Dean replied. Cas couldn’t breathe now (but was he breathing before?). He was consumed with guilt. This was his doing. He must’ve brought Dean back flawed. He, after all, was the one who saved Dean from Hell. Something he must’ve not fixed right. He couldn’t even save Dean when he was powerful, and now Dean was twisted beyond anything Cas’d ever seen at the thought of torture.

But this wasn’t real, was it? What was going on? Cas’s thoughts were getting all tangled up in each other. It seemed as if they were only untangled by a cream that left him with a blank state of pure nothingness, except the insistence that something _had_ to be wrong.

Dean came towards Cas then, cutting into Cas’s flesh. Disfiguring him and hurting him, except Cas couldn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t _physically_ feel it when the knife left trails of blood seeping from his skin all over his body. If anything, he felt echoes of it. He felt a betrayal that made him feel sick, but all the while it didn’t _physically_ hurt.

But somehow it did, and Cas couldn’t help screaming and begging Dean to stop. His voice didn’t make enough noise though. His screams left no sound. Dean didn’t react to them in the slightest.

“This isn’t real,” Cas repeated, sure of it this time. Dean didn’t react with anything besides another cruel smile. “Dean wouldn’t ever really hurt me,” Cas repeated, holding onto this fact. Trying to make whatever he was trapped in disappear.

“Really, Cas?” Dean asked. “Then when you go to your stomach, there won’t be any scars, right?” Dean asked, but maybe the sound was mirroring his own thoughts.

Yes, that’s what Cas should do. He needed to feel the reality of himself. He needed to do that to escape; it all made sense. He could escape then; he could be free.

So when he physically felt the reality of his stomach underneath the old t-shirt he was wearing, it was supposed to be smooth, unscarred. It was supposed to be full.

And when he felt the barely healing wounds, he couldn’t help but let out an awful scream. This time he could hear the scream. It was piercing and filled up all the horrid reality around him.

He’d woken up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter, and I meant to include the next part in it, but I thought it'd be best if I made a new chapter for the next part :) Hopefully that will be up before the next episode tonight.


	5. Kiss It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah there's not an ounce of fluff in this chapter. The whole title thing is not anything happy, if that's what you expected from it.

Reality came with a nasty bite. After he muted his scream, all Castiel was a sense of utter sickness and grief he wished he could wipe away. So that’s what dreaming was.

Dean really had harmed him and scarred him, and that was no nightmare. But that was… inconceivable. He felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t fight that aftermath of such a vivid dream. His mind was still there, sickened by everything that had happened.

Now a sense of horror filled Castiel. He just screamed because of a  _dream._  Dean had probably woken up. Oh no, but that couldn’t happen. This couldn’t be happening.

Why  _did_ Cas have to be  **so** weak?

The profit Kevin Tran came in first. He looked obviously tired and wore the same shirt as the previous day with plaid pajama pants.

“Cas?” he asked. He breathed in relief. “I thought Crowley had escaped or something. Sorry,” he said. Cas had no idea what to say. Tell Kevin he was sorry for waking him up? For screaming because of a freaking  _nightmare_?

“Kevin?” a dreaded voiced asked. Dean. Cas’s blood ran cold.

Maybe Cas should just give up trying to mean  _anything_ to Dean.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Kevin replied, his voice still a little groggy. Dean didn’t seem sleepy at all and was still wearing full clothing from the previous day. “Crowley's probably still locked up. I’m just paranoid.”

“Where?” Dean asked Kevin. “Where’s Crowley, I need to check up on him,” Dean added with much insistence.

“The dungeon, where you and Sam left him. I’m heading back to sleep. I hope you’re okay, Cas,” Kevin replied. Cas was too worried about Kevin leaving Dean and him alone together to feel gratitude towards Kevin. Except he still did, he was thankful for the reaction of kindness.

Dean looked frustrated. His eyes held fresh excitement when he turned towards Cas, though. Cas could feel his heart rate speeding up. He was terrified.

“Cas, are you okay? I’m not sure if you noticed, but you gave Kevin a real fright,” Dean asked. His words and tone sounded kind, but Cas could hear the sarcasm in them.

“Justa nightmare,” Cas half slurred. His voice was even more gravelly than usual since, in all honesty, he was still tired. Like he’d ever get back to sleep after that. He never wanted to sleep again.

“A nightmare?” Dean asked mockingly. He came in the room towards Cas. Cas’s breathing suddenly shallow and erratic. Dean was too close to him again. It should be _comforting_ , not terrifying.

“Yes. I’m sorry Dean… I didn’t know they were like that. I’m sorry,” Cas apologised. Dean had continued closer to Cas. Cas felt the need to stand up off his bed, which he was sitting on the side of. Maybe then Dean wouldn’t seem _as_ imposing.

“A nightmare. How terrifying,” Dean commented sarcastically. He grabbed a handful of Cas’s hair and pulled Cas upright. Cas let out a small gasp at the sudden strain. “Let me… kiss it better for you.”

“Dean… what?” Cas asked in confusion. Before he could properly react, Dean pulled Cas’s head towards his own and began kissing him. Cas was completely overwhelmed, too much so to react, but tried pulling away anyways. Dean wouldn’t let him.

Cas couldn’t find much will to fight him and couldn’t help but kiss him back. It was disorienting and over-consuming and Cas could barely think. When Dean violently pushed away from him, he was trying not to show that he was gasping for breath.

Oh, how Dean had frazzled his brain.

“You’re not Dean,” Cas said, before he could even process what was going on. “Dean wouldn’t do that.”

Cas was barely aware of what was going on. He hoped Dean couldn’t tell. Or the thing that wasn’t Dean… surely it wasn’t? But… was Cas just making excuses for all the horrid things that had been going on? His thoughts weren’t working straight.

“Not me? God, Cas. You’re pathetic,” Dean replied. The way he moved, the way he talked, everything was so like Dean. It was just the coldness towards Cas that was different. Dean wouldn’t call Cas pathetic with all the designifiying in the world.  Maybe he had some reason for actually kissing Cas. Maybe it was because Cas meant literally nothing anymore.

But… he should mean something. After everything, Castiel should mean  _something._  And Dean was a good person; he’d forgive Cas for the things he’d done in the end, wouldn’t he?

“You… but Dean…” Cas replied. He was still flustered from Dean kissing him. It was… so strangely out of character.

“Fine. You know what, good. You’re learning to check for these sorts of things. Here,” Dean pulled out a knife and showed it to Cas. “Solid silver.” He made a cut on his forearm barely wincing. A normal human cut bled red blood. “And do you know the exorcism? I used my holy water on those mooks getting you out and haven’t replaced it yet.”

“Yes,” Cas said. He felt like saying it wasn’t necessary, that he believed Dean, but he couldn’t find it in him.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…” Cas began saying from memory. Thank goodness he’d taken the time to memorise a petty thing such as an exorcism when he used to be able to smite demons with his grace.

A tiny part of Cas must’ve been waiting for Dean to be exorcised the entire time, for it not to be Dean who treated him so terribly. Some part of him just wanted that so badly, but he should’ve known better.

He got to the end, and Dean didn’t even flinch. He just rolled his eyes.

“Are we done yet? Because, if you hadn’t noticed by freaking  _now_  at least: I’m me. And you’re you, or some version of Cas. One that screams in the middle of the night because of a dream,” Dean said. Cas was suddenly terrified again. And, though he didn’t want to admit it, angry.

“Dean that was the first nightmare I’ve ever experienced. I had no idea what it was,” Cas said forcibly. Dean sat down beside him.

“Wee little angels don’t dream?” he asked mockingly. More anger began building up inside Cas.

“Angels don’t sleep. You know that, Dean,” Cas replied. Dean remained silent for a second as if he’d genuinely forgotten this face. Hadn’t it been obvious on multiple occasions in their past? Cas had _told_ him so.

“Well suck it up. Being a human is difficult; I get it. But we don’t really have time for complaining. I’m tired. I need sleep,” Dean replied coldly.

“I’m not. I’m sorry I woke you and Kevin up. You should go to sleep now then,” Cas said.

“Like I’m going to sleep after this?”

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas finally asked, probably sounding defeated. Dean seemed to think about that for a moment.

“Nothing. From you,” Dean replied. He went to leave, but Cas grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m useless and I can’t help. I’m sorry I didn’t share enough trust in you. Could we please just be okay again?” Cas asked. It felt as if he was reaching for nothing tangible, at fleeting shadows in murky water, and he wanted to add at the end “ _If you ever really cared._ ”

Maybe Cas never stopped believing Dean cared for him, but he should’ve picked up on the fact that wasn’t true because now all he wanted to do was die.

Dean’s reply wasn’t, at least at first, very verbal. He punched Castiel in the stomach where many of his wounds were, and Cas sucked in a breath.

“Okay again?” Dean asked, his voice incredulous. Cas tried to refrain from grimacing in pain.

“Yeah, Dean. You know what? No,” Cas said, not making any sense but all too consumed with human emotions. He wished that those weren’t tears sparkling in his eyes, but, then again, did he really care anymore?

He stood back up and could feel some fresh blood gushing from his wounds. They weren’t healing anywhere near fast enough, and, he supposed, the impact of Dean’s fist didn’t help any.

“I’m so  _weak_ Dean; I get it. I’m all 100% fucking human, but you know what? That shouldn’t freaking matter. It doesn’t matter to Sam? So back off,” Castiel yelled at Dean, shoving him. “In fact, the way in which I’m the weakest is probably how much faith I put in  _you_ ,” Castiel emphasised, his mind blown away by his words. He regretted every syllable the second they came out of his mouth. He regretted everything about this situation; these actions they both kept making, but the rage… it was so hard to control.

Dean punched him in the face this time. It was the first time he’d actually gone to harm Cas in a place that would be visible in the morning and wow did it hurt. A nasty cracking noise occurred and it took a second to decipher that was him. It was surprising how easy the pain was to ignore with all this adrenaline pumping through his body.

“You’re so adorable,” Dean said. Castiel never knew how much of a weapon Dean could make out of sarcasm and spitefulness. “You honestly think you’re worth half a human.”

Cas was sure tears sparkled in his eyes now. Dean punched him again, this time right below his shoulder. When Dean went to hit him again he dodged.

“Dean, stop,” Cas pled. Cas dodged Dean again and went to punch him back. A solid impact met Dean’s chin. He barely flinched even though there’d been a lot of force behind the blow. “Sorry,” Cas said immediately afterwards. Dean returned by hitting him full on in the face. It knocked Cas backwards and he fell against the bed, hitting the back of his head on the wall opposite. The pain was all-consuming, and Cas felt as if his head were going split.

“Dean,” Cas choked out, surprised. Dean pulled Cas back upright by grabbing him up by his hair again.

“Tomorrow, you should actually help me with something,” Dean said. Cas could barely hear him. He wasn’t sure if he nodded or not.

“I hate you,” Cas found himself saying, but it was just him talking through the pain. He knew he loved Dean. Black pins were dancing in his vision.

“No you don’t,” Dean replied. He threw Cas against the bed; this time his back hit the wall. Once he laid on the bed he, passed out. At least this time his sleep was dreamless.

 

 

***

Cas woke up with a crushing pain at the back of his head, and his entire body felt sore. It hurt to move. The clock read past eleven, so Cas found it necessary to get up. When every muscle in his body screamed with protest, more anger started forming for what Dean did to him. Again.

Examining his face in the mirror he could see the bruises that had begun forming. The shirt he’d been wearing was soaked partially in blood from his old cuts, but they seemed to have not bled enough to cause any real damage.

But he was a mess. Humans are so fragile and weak, and here was living proof of it. He couldn’t even heal himself; he just had to stay with this consequence.

It was hard believing Dean’d been the one to do this to him.

He made it to the library because that was obviously where everyone spent most of their time. For some odd reason, he wasn’t scared of seeing Dean anymore. Well, that was half a lie. He was terrified of confronting the things that had happened and that Dean would hurt him again, but, maybe it was pure blindness, let that not be the largest concern on his mind. 

Maybe it was because now he was mad. Not to get him wrong, he still felt terrible about all the things he’d done and his actions towards Dean, but that didn’t justify all the things Dean’d done to him. He was quite disturbed.

“Good morning Sam,” Cas greeted. Sam had been in the library like Cas had guessed, but Dean was nowhere to be seen. Cas didn’t even have any guesses on where he’d gone.

“Good morning… Cas?” Sam said alarmed. “What’s wrong with your face?”  Cas sighed. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to shield Sam from what Dean’d done anymore, but he should at least _try._

“Oh? The bruises?” Cas said, trying to think of a lie. He wasn’t quite as fast on his feet as he’d like to have been.

“Yes, Cas. The bruises. No offense, but you look like crap.”

“I… fell,” Cas said. Well, rather convincing, now, wasn’t he? He needed practice at this.

“Did you… did you talk to Crowley or something?” Sam asked. “Is he still locked up?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I just got into a little fight, that’s all,” Cas reassured. Obviously his lying needed to be improved on. Unfortunately, Dean would’ve been the one he’d gone to for help on something like that.

“With who? I saw you last night…” Realisation lit up in Sam’s eyes along with morbid shock.

“Dean’s possessed. He’s possessed, isn’t he?” Sam said suddenly, quick to try to excuse Dean’s actions. Cas didn’t know why he felt the need to defend Dean so immediately.

“No. I checked. Said the exorcism and all, no, he just… he doesn’t like me or anything.  I hope to change that,” Cas replied. It was a lot more difficult to remain standing still human, so Cas took at a seat at the table. He hoped awfully badly this wouldn’t annoy Sam.

“Cas, that isn’t true. Dean wouldn’t…” Sam said. He sounded sure, but doubt leaked into his voice.

Dean then entered the room. Cas tried to remain passive and emotionless.

“Cas, I need to talk to you,” he stated. Confusion must’ve shown on Cas’s face because Dean seemed to get annoyed by it. Before he could restate the statement or get anymore visibly irritated, Cas nodded.

Cas wasn’t sure what to make of Sam’s opinion on this.

“Sure, Dean,” Cas replied. He got up to go with Dean to wherever he wanted Cas to go, but every step hurt like Hell. Once they were in another room and out of Sam’s range of hearing, Dean turned back to him. Cas flinched, expecting Dean to hit him again.

“Can you go to Crowley with me? I need some help with something,” Dean asked. There was surprisingly no venom in Dean’s voice.

“Yeah, sure,” Cas replied. Honestly, he was happy he could do _something_ for the hunter. Maybe one day all this pain would just be the past.

“Thanks. Lead the way,” Dean said. Cas started to room 7B.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm sorry, I was busy yesterday. And I'VE BEEN KIND OF FREAKING OUT ABOUT THAT LAST EPISODE I MEAN.  
> I can't even comprehend anything....  
> But I'm still going to continue this story since I know how it ends anyways :)


	6. "Nothing"'s Even Better Than This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is all too eager to visit Crowley in the dungeon.

Castiel navigated to room 7B, a room he’d only been in once before. In all honestly, he actually didn’t know where this “dungeon” was, but had heard both Sam and Dean talking about it, so he was sure he’d be able to find the lever or whatever somewhere.

Of course, Dean would know where it would be, so once he got there, there’d be no problem with that anyways.

Once they were both in the back of the library Cas waited for Dean to open it, but he didn’t even try.

“Go on, then,” he said, sounding frustrated. It was if the only remembrance of the things he had done to Cas the night prior was the small bruising cut on the bottom of his chin. Cas fumbled about for a second, but found the place to open it fairly easily. Dean's presence made him so much more nervous he kept messing up on the simplest actions.

Crowley looked terrible, sitting chained to a chair inside a demon trap. He was bruised and bloody and someone had obviously taken the luxury of working him over.

“Castiel, I see someone clipped those fine feathered wings of yours,” Crowley said to him. He seemed slightly shaken.

“And… Dean?” Crowley said. He opened his eyes wide in sudden fright.

“Castiel, you have to get him out of here now,” Crowley said urgently. Cas tilted his head to one side in question.

“Why, Crowley? Why would I ever listen to you?” Cas replied. Crowley was probably just scared of the fact Dean held the knife and was coming at him.

“Sam and Dean, they want, they want names from me. Dean’s looking to kill me. Can’t you trust that?” Crowley said. He seemed to be losing his composure. Cas couldn’t imagine trusting Crowley over Dean again, but some part of him, the part of him with the cuts and the bruises and the shattering ego and fraying sense of loyalty, was leaping on a chance to believe that something was off.

“Castiel, that’s…” Crowley tried to say, but he was interrupted by Dean stabbing him with the demon knife. Right. In. The. Heart. Crowley’s entire body shook with the burning out flash of a light bulb and he died, just like any old demon they killed with the knife would’ve.

“Dean!” Cas yelled in shock. It was odd, seeing Crowley go. Cas and him and never been on good terms, and Cas in fact hated the demon, but still, it was death. It was something irretrievable into some abyss that Cas had no idea where it was. Crowley couldn’t be in Hell, or Purgatory, and certainly not Heaven, so where was he now?

The answer was plainly _gone._ Gone somewhere not even an army of angels could bring him back.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus,” Cas heard from behind him. It was Sam. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You think I’m possessed, Sam?” Dean asked. His voice was nowhere near as sharp as it had been whenever he talked to Cas. But then again, he loved his brother while he clearly thought nothing of Cas whatsoever.

“I’m sure of it. Dean never would treat Cas that way. Or kill Crowley, for that matter,” Sam replied. Why was Sam so convinced that Dean wouldn't treat Cas this way?

“Sam, I do not think that is necessary. I already tried exorcising him,” Cas said. He aimed his barely spoken words towards the ground and hoped Dean wouldn’t cut him down.

Sam carried on with the exorcism anyways. Dean didn’t bother to interrupt him; it was very obvious Dean was Dean from his easy manner around even the beginning of the exorcism. Plus, Castiel was pretty sure he’d spoken the words correctly the first time ‘round.

Sam got to the end of the exorcism, and, when still nothing had happened, he looked more shocked then Castiel had ever been. He got some holy water out, as if preparing for Dean to lash at him, as if the simple blessed water would have some affect against a human.

“You’re not my brother,” Sam said, sure of it. And that was when Sam’s facial expression contorted until they no longer belonged to Sam at all.

“Castiel, good to see you,” his brother greeted him. Cas visibly flinched. Betrayal and jealousy ran through his veins like a bitter agony.

“Ezekiel,” Dean said. Silver lining was Dean didn’t seem pleased to see Ezekiel show up either, but then again the dude was possessing his brother. “Why are you here?”

“You must forgotton; I am an angel. Abaddon,” Ezekiel said to Dean. And then Sam’s, or rather Ezekiel’s (or was it Sam’s?) face softened. Cas felt suddenly paralyzed in shock.

“We needed Crowley; Dean never would’ve killed him,” Sam continued, as if Ezekiel had never accused his brother of being a knight of Hell.

Dean walked towards Sam.

“I like Kevin better. More character than you. And Castiel, now, he’s a fun one,” Dean said, his voice oddly higher than it should be. He then winked at Cas, which in turn made his heart rate speed up involuntarily. Fright of sudden realisation was visible by the uncrinkling of Sam’s eyebrows.

“You’re… you’re…” Cas stuttered. He couldn’t make the words out. He couldn’t make sense of them.

“Abaddon, yes sweet cheeks. And thanks to you, I’ve gotten what I nee…” Abaddon began mockingly, but her cry of victory was interrupted by an abrupt splash of holy water to her face. But the thing was it didn’t look like “her face”. It was Dean who appeared to be in utter pain, burning from the toxic water. Not that it even hurt Dean, but something about seeing Dean’s face show that much pain made Cas sick in the stomach.

“Nice try, but I’m a lot more powerful than that. Unless you want to stick another bullet in my head,” she said. She kept walking towards Sam while he backed up, obviously afraid of her. Now in the actual library of 7B instead of the dungeon with a broken demon trap and a dead king of hell, Abaddon stopped suddenly.

“Impossible,” she said, making Dean’s voice scarcely sound like his own at all.

“Next time, don’t be so sloppy when impersonating my brother,” Sam said. Abaddon looked up and there, in what looked like pretty fresh red spray paint, was a demon trap on the sturdy ceiling.

“It doesn’t matter than you’ve got me trapped. I’ll get out eventually. And then I can feed you my _blood_ you freak,” Abaddon yelled at Sam in rage. Sam paled. “Yes, funny how many of his thoughts are floating around in here. Crowley’s location was pretty much the only thing he kept on lockdown.”

“He wouldn’t let you,” Sam said. Certainty lined his expression, but pure fear sounded in his voice. It sounded close to cracking. Abaddon smiled. It was the same unreal smile Dean had been giving him the last few days, the one that had made it into his dreams.

Cas was too terrified to be relieved.

“Really?” he, or rather she, it being Abaddon, replied. “Cas, why don’t you show little Sammy here your chest?” Abaddon said. Cas, suddenly a bit too very overwhelmed to reply, simply shook his head.

He couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t think about the fact that it hadn’t been Dean to do that to him. That Dean’d been trapped (had he been _conscious?_ ) while Abaddon had done those horrible things to him. Dean had still seen him like that… but Cas had no idea where his relief stood. He was terrified of Dean being possessed more than the prospect of Dean hating him.

He tried to turn these violently strong emotions into simple anger geared towards Abaddon, the one who’d done this all.

“Cas… what does she mean?” Sam finally said, breaking Cas’s silent state of being stupefied.

Cas lifted his shirt to show Sam the marks Dean, Abaddon, had left on his chest. He was so ashamed, embarrassed. He should’ve tried harder, noticed more that it wasn’t Dean. Abaddon had done a great job at making Cas feel like he meant nothing to the hunter, but he still should’ve checked…

“Is that a… an angel banishing sigil?” Sam asked, sounding as if the prospect made him sick. Castiel finally felt so hot that he was going to randomly combust. Was there a flaw in humanity that would allow that to happen?

Cas slowly nodded in response.

“And you just… sort of thought Dean would do that to you?” Sam asked, utterly appalled. Cas nodded again, not looking up at Sam. He remained speechless for several moments.

“Get out of him!” Cas roared at Abaddon. He’d finally gotten the courage to say anything, purely from the fury bursting from his seems.

“But why would I do that? When this body is so much _fun_. Just look at the drama I’ve caused already. Imagine it: Hell ruled by the vessel of Heaven. Plus, it’s just plain fun to be in this body,” Abaddon replied. It physically hurt to hear Dean’s voice contorted into what honestly sounded like Abaddon’s.

“You’re not taking Dean,” Cas stated, certain.

“And what are you going to do about it? Smite me? You can’t exorcise me and you know it. And I know neither of you are going to slice this vessel into pieces and bury it in concrete,” Abaddon said. Fear flooded every thought, every corner of Cas’s brain. It was a raw fear; a fear that demanded its attention so much that all Cas’s energy was put into ignoring it, and pretending it wasn’t even there.

“I’ll find a stronger exorcism,” Cas said, sure that that was a thing.

“Oh please, you know none of that’ll work on me. I don’t plan on making your lives any harder at this particular moment in time, anyways. I needed _Crowley_ dead. Not you two,” she replied. Panic was causing Cas to physically shake.

“There must be some way…” Cas said. He was sure of it. Nothing could possibly hurt Dean, not now that Cas couldn’t save him from it. Not now when life was actually a fragile thing and human death couldn’t simply be reversed.

“There isn’t. Anyways, though Dean gets to watch this with me, he’s already dead. So let’s not waste our time here, and let me out. I won’t kill you now; I promise. We can leave that fight for a later date,” Abaddon said, but Cas couldn’t hear anything after “ _already dead”._

It wasn’t true. Dean Winchester wasn’t _dead._ That was hilarious. Even Death would laugh at a joke like that.

Sam shakily threw more holy water at Abaddon. He heard it sizzle and burn.

“Dean’s not dead,” said Cas simply.

“You’d be surprised what sort of traps Dean lets himself into when it comes to someone saying they’ve got his fallen angel captive,” Abaddon said. You could see how much fun she was having by the expression she was having on Dean’s face.

Maybe he would wake up from this. It felt like reality now, with all the fear and impossible circumstances and sense of utter wrongness, but Cas could tell, just somehow, that it was real. He would have to find a way to fix this himself.

“You’re lying,” Sam said. The strength seemed drained from his very voice. “Demons do that. They lie.”

Yes. That must be it. She was lying. They couldn’t think about her words; that’s what she wanted.

Regardless of the strong voice in his head echoing that repeatedly, he couldn’t stop a sudden guilt coming over him.

This was all his fault. If only he hadn’t trusted April’s friend, if only he hadn’t trusted the wrong person all over again…

What if Dean was dead? What if Cas couldn’t get him back? What if Dean Winchester left this world permanently because of Castiel?

Cas felt as if he were going to faint.

“Castiel, come over here,” Abaddon said. She was doing that trick where her voice sounded so similar to Dean’s it was eerie.

“Why in the world would I do that?” Cas replied.

“Because I have a knife, and while I can’t hurt any of you very well from inside this magic circle of yours, I can hurt this lovely meatsuit. You remember how a knife on skin feels, don’t you Castiel?” she asked. Cas could feel his blood spike.

“Cas, don’t listen to her,” Sam said immediately. Cas ignored him. If she was going to kill him, fine, let her kill him. He might be able to fight her off too, but it’d be hard to really put up much’ve a fight with Dean being the one he’s truly up against. But anything for Dean not to feel the pain he’d did. Knives weren’t fun; that was one thing about being a human Cas had already picked up on.

Once he was inside the circle Abaddon pulled him towards her. She was visibly weaker inside the demon trap, but obviously not weak enough to press her lips against his.

Except it was Dean.

Except it wasn’t.

Too many fresh emotions from every flipping thing going on made Cas freeze when what felt like Dean was all around him. He had to ignore that. This was Abaddon. How could she possibly find this entertaining?

But she pulled away not to soon later while screaming in pain. Sam had ran into the circle and purposefully jabbed her with what appeared to be a hot poker. Cas had no idea where he’d gotten it or why in the world he’d want to hurt his brother with it. He grabbed Cas back and dragged him out of the circle; Castiel nearly falling backwards in the process.

“What the Hell?” Abaddon said, but when she looked at the fresh imprint of flushed red on Dean’s arm, she broke out into a maniacal laugh. “Why would you ever want to _trap_ me in your brother’s body? How would that really help you? I don’t even mind. I’d planned on keeping this as my vessel anyways,” she said.

Sam… trapped Abaddon in Dean’s body? Why would he ever do that? Surely he hadn’t actually given up on Dean being alive? Sam would never do that, would he? No, Cas would sure he wouldn’t.

“Because now I can do this,” Sam said fiercely. He took another poker from behind a bookcase and came at Abaddon again. She seemed confused at his action, and decided to just not fight him.

“I don’t care about some stupid hot poker it’s your brother that it…” but she was cut off by an inhuman scream.

Black smoke exited Dean’s mouth in a dramatic swoosh and Dean’s body fell to the ground with a fragile thump. Before Cas could even run to see if Dean was okay (or, for that scary matter, alive) the smoke began to come towards him.

He’d never gotten an anti-possession tattoo.

“Cas!” Sam cried, from his brother’s side. Suddenly all he could see was a hollow blackness and then he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t control it when he threw Sam away from Dean and into a resilient wall. He couldn’t control it when he broke the demon trap. It was all fluid motions of Abaddon, but that’s not saying he wasn’t screaming in his head.

She was just so powerful, and he, well, he was not. It was all he could do to stop her from killing the Winchesters both quickly.

“That was a silly trick to play on me, Sam. But this meatsuit’s a bit too _weak_ for my liking. I think I’ll go for Dean again,” she said, but Castiel felt the words leaving his mouth. He once was an angel and now he's being possessed by a demon. But her words just made Cas want her to keep possessing him, anyone but Dean.  But maybe he could just control her enough to leave here? But she wasn’t moving over an inch until that second when she was completely gone. From the opposite side of the room Sam threw Cas a necklace that seemed to be anti-possession, and before Cas could even think he raced towards Dean and swung it around his neck. He kept the symbol pressed closely against his hand as well, just hoping that would keep her from possessing him again.

Castiel supposed it did when the simple black smoke of what was Abaddon exited through the ceiling, leaving a scorched appearance there for a couple seconds. Not a second after he was gone did he check for Dean’s pulse.

He had to be alright.

Dean just had to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no proof that what Sam did to get Abaddon out of Dean would work in the story, all I know is it's never been proved that it wouldn't.


	7. Can't Not Forgive You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean being possessed by a Knight of Hell for the last few days makes everything a bit more complicated.

Utter, complete, _sickening_ fear.

It felt nearly palpable, tangible. It was in the air, suffocating Cas, here. He couldn’t fix it if Dean were dead. He’d have to… to face it. That wouldn’t be possible, surely. Dean didn’t die; he didn’t do it.

Cas’s fingers somehow were fumbling and he had trouble trying to locate a pulse. He found himself barely capable of functioning now. Dread and adrenaline raced through him at a rate he couldn’t quite comprehend.

He was completely _flooded_ with relief when Dean inhaled sharply and seemed to come to. Sam had made it from across the room to, but, as Dean opened his eyes, all Cas could see was him.

The warmth, it seemed to be there again. The pure utter warmth that was the only looking glass Cas now had to Dean’s now hidden soul was visible behind those bright green eyes.

Dean was okay. He was breathing. He gripped onto Cas to remain sitting. After a minute of what appeared to be searching Cas’s face for some sort of response Cas wasn’t sure how to give (as he was completely unaware on where anything stood) he seemed to snap back to action. His glance shot away from Cas to Sam.

“What the Hell was that Sammy?” he said, addressing Sam who now was picking up the poker.

“Remember when Meg possessed me?” Sam asked. Cas was hit with a sudden shock.

“Meg possessed you?” Cas asked in a bit of disbelief. He’d forgotten Meg and the Winchesters probably had a lot of history he wasn’t aware of. Well, he probably wouldn’t ever see her again anyways.

“Yeah,” Dean replied for Sam. Or was he replying to Sam? Cas didn’t know. It kind of depended on whether Dean wanted to ignore him or not.

“When you undid the binding lock it didn’t just let her out, it exorcised her. I had no idea whether it would work but… Abaddon…”

“Was possessing me. You really saved me neck there, thanks Sam,” Dean said. Something about hearing Dean’s voice now compared to the ever-so-slightly off version Abaddon had been mimicking filled Cas with sort of a sense of bubbling happiness that he couldn’t suppress or address directly, even if it was a little hoarse. The fact Dean would barely meet his eye didn’t give him that same feeling.

“Did she hurt you, Dean?” Cas asked, searching Dean’s face for any signs of pain beyond what seemed to be utter exhaustion.

“Physical manage seems to be minimal,” Dean replied. He gripped onto Cas’s arm tighter, and Cas got it as a hint to help Dean upright.

“Besides your burnt flesh?” Sam asked.

“I’ve had worse.” Dean walked over to Crowley’s dead body. “Well, looks like she got what she came for,” he said. Cas turned over inside himself. Dean should’ve known where Crowley was. Sam and Kevin both knew that. But Cas was so stupid and self-loathing that he didn’t really think about that. He’d been too busy caught up in his own stupid thoughts and worries and traumas to… do whatever he should’ve done...?

Dean looked shaky on his feet now. He needed hydration and rest. He’d be better after that, right? Sleep could do marvelous things, when it came to mundane healing, when it wasn’t torturing you with images and echoes of words.

Cas felt as if he should apologize again for his blunder, for his not trusting the right person (even if Dean hadn’t been the other option) yet again. This was his fault. Those demons captured _Cas_ and Dean’d felt the liability to rescue _him_ when getting possessed. If Dean had gotten hurt, if Dean’d died…

But what was his apology worth anymore anyways? He’d used it right up. He wasn’t sure if Dean was pissed at him now, if he’d actually meant anything of what Abaddon made him say, if it was just back to him being a useless human that drew attention, or if it were something else. Cas didn’t know, and Dean didn’t appear to want to share it with him.

“Sam, could you get me a beer?” Dean asked. Sam nodded and left the room. Cas could obviously see this was something beyond Dean not wanting to go in the other room.

Cas wasn’t ready to face Dean. He wasn’t ready to hear whatever the heck Dean was going to say to him or reply… in fact the last time he’d seen Dean as actually Dean was when Dean wanted him to leave in the first place.

“Cas… if you w… Cas,” Dean stuttered. His words seemed to be betraying him. Cas was aware of that certain predicament of being a human. But by the intensity in his eyes and how much they seemed to be searching for sense in Cas’s, Cas could guess whatever he meant he meant it, and he meant it a lot. Cas wrapped up in whatever that was, happy about whatever that could mean, hoping it wasn’t bad.

It probably was some sort of regret. With Dean that’s what it always was.

“I… need food… Bye Dean,” Cas said quickly. Dean looked like he was going to stop Cas or slow him down, but in the end he didn’t. Not that Cas gave him much of a chance.

Cas was exhausted to the core and still completely sore from the events of the previous night. He absentmindedly wondered if his dreams would be more pleasant now that he knew that it had been Abaddon doing those things, but his best guess was no.

It could still look like Dean in his dreams. It could still taunt him and torture him and, well, at least he wouldn’t wake screaming. At least, hopefully…

He wondered if falling would start haunting him. When he first fell sleep had been so dreamless… but now. Now he wondered if it would just get worse and worse.

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to deal with all of that. He didn’t want to have to go into a world where his mind wouldn’t work properly and the only way to snap out of it would be to sense the complete and utter wrongness, and even then it felt impossible. He didn’t want to wake feeling a sick sense of relief, which he hoped would happen now that he knew it wasn’t Dean.

But Castiel needed sleep. Bruises lined all over his body from Dean, Abaddon, punching him and his wounds were healing much too slowly. He absentmindedly wondered if any of them needed stitches. He should ask Sam tomorrow. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent scarring now that he was human, but it seemed right anyways. An angel banishing symbol forever etched into his chest…

Somehow he was lying down on his bed, not quite under the covers with his shoes still on. He didn’t want to sleep; it was barely late in the day at all. Somehow he did anyways.

And when he woke he managed to bite back his scream.

He’d woken quickly, and it seems that only a small amount of time had passed, but that hadn’t stopped his dreams. Leviathans tore at him from the inside and Dean, using Abaddon’s snide smile, tried to cut them out. Cas hadn’t been able to snap back to reality until he drowned, flinching away from water that didn’t quite touch his skin.

He got up then, thoroughly terrified of sleeping now. Maybe he should talk to Dean. Dean would be going through some traumatic stuff now, wouldn’t he? He had just been possessed for days. Sure, Castiel was terrified of what Dean would say to him, terrified of just exactly how much of Cas’s demise he’d been awake for, but that didn’t mean he could just hide away from Dean. He needed to make sure Dean didn’t feel racked up for guilt or anything for it. Cas had to make sure Dean knew Cas didn’t blame him.

Walking through the hallway to get to the library he paused before Dean’s bedroom. Voice’s came from there. Sam and Dean were talking. If he listened, he could make out the words. Dean sounded like he was close to tears.

Eavesdropping was one sin being an angel made him more prone to. Once he stood next to the door, he could make out every word.

“I can’t do it again, Sammy. I just can’t,” Dean said desperately. Dean never allowed that much emotion in his voice or vulnerability to Sam. He didn’t even sound like he was telling Sam this; he sounded like he was begging Sam to stop something.

“Do what, Dean?” Sam replied, his voice soft like it’d been when he’d tried to reassure Cas.

“Kick Cas out again, Sam, I can’t do it. Not after this. Not after what I did to him,” Dean said. Now Castiel had to use effort to remain silent. He breathed slowly to avoid any tears.

“You never kicked Cas out, Dean. And he won’t leave. This time, he won’t. He’s injured for goodness sakes,” Sam replied. Cas bit his lip. How much was Dean even lying to Sam these days? Since when did anything good come from lies? Castiel had learnt that the hard way.

So Dean wanted him gone. Hmm. That’s nice. At least Abaddon had had the courtesy to let him stay while he healed.

“He will when I tell him to, but I can’t. _Sam,_ I can’t. Please.” Dean really was begging now. Maybe he had been awake while Cas agreed to let him, or then Abaddon, torture him. Maybe he’d seen how desperately Cas wanted Dean back, and now he had to kick him out anyways. Maybe Cas made this all so much harder on Dean. He never fought him on the matter, though. He’d left as quickly as Dean’d dismissed him. He’d told him that it wasn’t permanent, that Cas was still family, but he was only human then and had a target on his back. And something to do with Ezekiel, but Cas had heard most of it as if through water.

Why would Dean want him here anyways? The hunter certainly didn’t want him hurt or dead, or wanted to hurt or kill him, but that didn’t mean he wanted Cas in his _presence._ He probably felt responsible for Cas, like he did with people he called his “family”, but that didn’t mean he wanted Cas around. What could Cas even do to help? Dean needed him before, not loved like he loved Dean, and he didn’t _need_ him anymore.

It should just make Cas glad Dean didn’t want him dead, even if he practically was sending him out to it.

“Dean, you don’t need to do that,” Sam said. “He can stay here. He can heal here. It’s guarded better than anywhere else. You won’t let him die, so him being here is safer than out there for us anyways. And he’ll forgive you for hurting him, in the end he will,” Sam said. His words sounded adjusted but preplanned out.

“No,” Dean said. The way he breathed the word “no” put a visual in Cas’s head of him half smirking in bittersweet certainty while he said it. Castiel really had spent too long memorizing everything about him. “You don’t understand; he never will really. Especially after this,” Dean said.

Hysterical laughter built up in Cas’s chest. He wanted to laugh out loud which was completely irrational. It was just so _funny_ how wrong Dean was, but, really, the true hilarity was in how far Cas would really go to make Dean happy. He’d forgive him in a heartbeat, if not just a little haunted by the circumstances. In fact, the lengths he’d go to for Dean were always what screwed Castiel up the worst. Dean was, and always would be, Cas’s Achilles’ Heel, and that made it fucking _hilarious_ for Dean to think he wouldn’t forgive him.

“Dean, just stop. You’re ruining yourself. Let Cas stay. He’s safe here, _Dean_. He’s allowed to stay,” Sam said more forcibly. Cas heard the sobbing sound coming from the room stop.

“Sam?” Dean asked. Cas suspected there was a nod. “Well, it’s not up to you. He has to go,” Dean said. Every time he did say those words, Cas felt the ability to stand and function little bit harder. Life kept ripping him to shreds. _Dean_ kept ripping him open with every quick denial.

If only he were still an angel. If only Dean still needed him.

Despite his even breathing, tears escaped from Cas’s eyes. Annoying damn things.

“Sam? I’m going to get another drink,” Cas heard Dean say. Cas would have to move out of the way now. He’d have to make sure Dean didn’t know he’d heard him, especially like that. He escaped into the room beside closest, which looked like Sam’s room since there was no decoration whatsoever, and heard Dean stumble away. He already was acting pretty drunk.

In taking a moment to breathe, to plan on how to leave before Dean came back so he wouldn’t have to go through kicking him out, Castiel didn’t hear Sam come into his room.

“Uh… Cas,” Sam said. He didn’t seem displeased to see the ex-angel. Realisation seemed to hit Sam and he half rolled his eyes. “You heard Dean didn’t you,” Sam noted. His voice was suddenly soft, as if he didn’t want to see Cas break down in front of him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave now. Dean doesn’t need to kick me out. Tell him I was scared about getting him possessed again, I don’t know. Please, Sam?” Cas asked.

“He was drunk, Cas. He wants you here,” Sam replied. Cas broke into a bitter, broken smile.

“Nah, he doesn’t. This would just make it so much easier,” Cas said. He left Sam’s room before Sam could make any sort of protest.

Cas couldn’t leave Dean. He couldn’t face being on the streets or trying to befriend people who turned out to be reapers or fallen angels or demons. But what else was he supposed to do? He had no home because he had no family. He’d alienated himself from both of them to the point where he was no longer welcome, rather it be with conflicted rejection or want for his blood.

Cas was weak. That was something Abaddon, and probably Dean as well, got spot on. He was weak and tired and beaten up. But for Dean, he had to be strong. Even if that meant he’d end up dying, what was there left for him anyways? In fact, he should probably kill himself. But only once he was fair enough away, far enough away for Dean to never find out. Far enough away for Dean not to feel guilty.

He went back to his room to get his supplies, but he found Dean waiting on his bed.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dean asked roughly. His voice sounded slightly slurred. He looked at Cas demandingly, but then looked down once they actually caught each other’s gaze.

“What do you mean, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Sam texted me saying you leaving. You doing that, again, Cas. Human? You’re just going to leave onto the streets?” Dean questioned, a little harder to understand. He looked hurt beyond belief. It made Cas angry. He wanted to yell at Dean that’s exactly what he’d told Cas to do, that he was only trying to avoid that happening again. But he didn’t want to cause more fights.

“I heard you saying you wanted me to leave. Thought I could avoid the confrontation,” Cas explained to the ground. He looked up when Dean’s eyes lit up like a light bulb, full of hurt and realization. He grabbed a glass of whiskey he’d seemingly set on Cas’s nightstand and gulped in down.

“Ca _sh_ ,” Dean said, his voice slurred. “I… forgot.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas replied. Dean must be pretty drunk right now, he thought. Cas hadn’t seen him drinking in quite a long time now.

“I… sh.. saw it all, Cas,” Dean said. Dean’s eyes seemed to cry without any tears flowing down his face.

“It must’ve been a traumatic experience,” Cas noted. He wanted to wrap his arms around Dean to let him know it was all okay, it would be okay, no matter what. But he stayed standing across the room from him, remembering when they were in opposite positions. Remembering Dean’s fist collide with his jaw and his head hitting the wall. How useless and pathetic he’d felt, gosh, he still felt.

He was remembering, but he didn’t blame Dean for it at all.

“I… _Cach_ ,” Dean said. He seemed to wanted to say a million things and centered them all in that one word, his name, or the name he considered his now. “Sstay?” he pleaded. Cas closed his eyes in pain. He wanted to, so badly, but he knew he couldn’t. Dean didn’t want him here, and, in the morning, when Dean wasn’t under the influence of a drink, he’d kick him out.

It was too bad he would have to wait till then. Maybe he could try to sleep. It would be easier to have sweet dreams with the bunker protecting him from nightmares as opposed to the outside world, the world that wanted him dead.

“I will Dean. You should sleep though, and I need to too,” Cas promised. He knew he couldn’t keep the promise, but it wouldn’t be his fault he’d have to break it, at least.

“Just… stay here? Cas? Please?” Dean asked. Cas wanted to curse Dean because there was literally nothing he wouldn’t do for him. This wasn’t difficult though, this was comforting. He sat on the bed beside Dean. Dean laid down, tears now in his eyes. “Don’t.. lleave,” Dean pled.

“I won’t,” Cas lied again. He wished more than anything that it were true. He laid down close to Dean, hoping the hunter didn't find it awkward. Especially after Abaddon forced Dean to kiss Cas. Especially after she'd made him scan every inch of Cas's body.

Before falling asleep, Dean asked to see his wounds. Pursing his lips Cas reluctantly did. The ones on his chest were much easier to show, but he let Dean see the ones on his upper thighs too, even though this required him in his underwear. Wasn’t like he hadn’t see that much of Cas’s skin before. Dean wet Cas’s pillow with tears, and, while he never apologized, he spent a good bit of time saying that Cas would heal and he’d be okay and nothing else bad would happen. Cas knew that was all just lies. He let himself believe it though, in that second, with Dean right beside him in the warmth of the nice bunker, that things could be okay. 

Dean beside him, now that, that was his utopia. That was his Heaven right there.

Dean fell asleep on his bed, but Cas still didn’t leave. He fell asleep between Dean and the wall eventually, despite his fear of nightmares.

For some reason, that night he didn’t have any.

 

Cas woke up peacefully the next morning, body still sore from bruises and wounds but, altogether, rested.

He woke up alone. Something about that snagged some reflex of pain inside him, but he ignored that irrationality the best he could.

He went to try and find Dean, even though avoiding the man seemed like an easier thing to do. Dean was in the library drinking some coffee. He looked petrified when he saw Cas.

“Hello Dean,” Cas greeted. Dean closed his eyes, as if preparing for some blow, for Cas to hit him, but Cas wasn’t going to do anything of the sort.

“Cas, how can you even look at me?” Dean asked after Cas sat down beside him.

“You’re not at all not aesthetically pleasing,” Cas replied in all honesty.

“That’s not what I meant, Cas,” he said. He winced away a bit at the noise his chair made when he turned it to face Cas better. “How are we supposed to get past this?” Dean asked, as if that were an option.

Another splinter in Cas’s breaking heart. He never would get to get past this with Dean. He didn’t plan on living long enough. He’d leave today, and this time he’d make sure he wouldn’t ever bring harm to the Winchesters again.

“It’s okay,” Cas said. “Completely honestly okay.” But it wasn’t. Cas went to leave, to actually leave. That’s what he was required to do. He’d still take Dean torturing him all over again over this, but that wasn’t even an option now. Now he'd been adding a new type of nightmare to the mix.

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas turned back to see everything in Dean’s posture, in his voice, telling him to stay. Was Cas imagining that? It honestly seemed like Dean wanted him here. At least, that's what he acted like while he was drunk. He seemed to have to make Cas leave. That made it all seem a bit better.

Sam entered the room as Cas was exiting it. Dean got up angrily and stomped towards Sam.

“Dean? What?” Sam asked confused.

“Fuck you,” Dean said. Sam’s face showed nothing but bewilderment. “ _Zeke_ ,” Dean added. Sam remained bewildered with Ezekiel hidden from view. Dean appeared to start to hyperventilate.

“Zeke?” Sam asked.

“Zeke? What? No, I must still be drunk,” Dean lied. Clear lines of confusion were visible on Sam’s face.

“You called me Zeke before. What is going on Dean?” Sam asked.

“Zeke is the name of a friend I made on the road,” Cas lied, trying to cover up Dean’s mess. “He was the one who turned out to be possessed. I texted Dean about this awhile back on the road. Could that possibly why that happened? Maybe he’d wanted to tell you or something?” Cas asked. He hoped that his lying had improved since the last time he tried to cover up for Dean’s behavior.

“Yeah, but Charlie got knocked out and I forgot. I’m just. Frazzled,” Dean said. Sam didn't really look like he bought it, but Cas couldn't really tell. “Sam, get Cas some cash,” Dean added, changing the subject. Pain and rejection still coursed through Cas, but he didn’t let it show. He didn’t let the fear of what the future held for him show either. Cas picked his stuff up in his bedroom and Sam gave Cas several fake credit cards and a cell phone.

He should’ve left after that, but he needed to say goodbye to Dean one last time. He found Dean in his bedroom, an empty glass by his bedside and more alcohol.

“And to think I’d given up drinking,” Dean said to Cas, but maybe it was actually more to himself.

“Dean, I’m sorry I’m causing you stress,” Cas said.

“Don’t you dare apologise to me!” Dean snapped and Cas flinched away involuntarily. The fact he did that made Cas completely embarrassed. “Just… leave Cas. And be safe, okay? Be safe,” he added, his voice softening. “If things go well… if you can get your mojo back or anything like that I don’t know, just… call? Okay?” Dean asked. Cas nodded, but he knew he’d never have the power Dean wanted again. He'd never have the strength of an angel, and would just be this until he died.

At least Dean was okay; at least Dean didn’t hate him.

But Cas really doubted he’d get far in the state he was in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To think... I nearly wrote a happy ending.  
> But no, I had to scrap it and write this.
> 
> ALSO:   
> FIRST CHAPTER FROM DEAN'S POV:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1056889


End file.
